Being Me Isn't Easy
by Lupe.Farron
Summary: Emily's nightmares still plague her sleep and her mind. How can Hotch make her see that everything's okay? M for a reason. One-shot.


Written for** charlotteprentiss **( yes, I will name and shame **;)** ) because she dared me to do this, then said I couldn't do it. So yes, this is me answering that challenge.

**Prompts:**

- Recurring nightmares

- Hotly

- Smut

Hope I did it justice!

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><p><strong>Warning: M for a reason. <strong>Seriously. God that feels weird writing that. And **sorry if this is a little OOC**...**I've never done this before**...and it seems I'm incapable of writing plot-less smut...and my nerves about posting this are all over the place...eep.

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><p><strong>Semi-established HotchEmily.**

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><p><strong>Any mistakes are mine. I made charlotteprentiss read this because it's her fault it exists, but I'm pretty sure she read it with her eyes closed ;) (only joking)<strong>

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: If I owned Criminal Minds, believe me, you'd know about it.<strong>

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><p><strong>Being Me Isn't Easy<strong>

"_You have to know who you are, if you don't you have nightmares."_ - **Stephen Rea**

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><p>It wasn't the first time Aaron Hotchner had been woken up in bed by a thrashing body next to him.<p>

Somehow, he doubted it'd be the last either.

With a yawn, the profiler turned his bedside lamp on and rolled over. He reached a hand over the whimpering person and gently pushed her dark hair out of her face. Her fists were bunched in the sheets; face twisted and quiet sobs escaping her throat.

"Stay away from them, please, I'll do anything."

"Emily," he said softly, caressing her face. "Emily, wake-up, it's okay. You're home, you're safe."

His soothing words gradually got louder and louder, competing with the brunette's fitful dreams until she suddenly bolted upright, eyes flickering wildly, her breathing erratic.

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay!" Hotch said, climbing until he was knelt next to the tearful woman. Sensing she was still lost in her thoughts, the man pulled her to his chest and planted a light kiss to the crown of her head. "It's okay."

Emily pushed herself away from his chest, shoving herself towards the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry I woke you," she said in a low tone, one that caused Hotch to fight to roll his eyes. He said nothing as the brunette stood and walked to the bathroom, not even sparing a glance back towards him. The profiler listened as he heard Emily run the tap, knowing her routine through and through.

The brunette had been suffering from recurring nightmares and you didn't have to be a genius like Reid to know what, or rather: who, they involved. Emily had told him parts of what happened with Doyle, but not everything. From her odd comment he gathered that Doyle had threatened them all and that was what caused her to run. When she had returned and gone to her therapist, she had lied about the nightmares leaving, but really they plagued every sleep. Emily had returned a little over a year ago now, and they'd been dating as of four months ago. It took her a while to trust him, she wasn't ready to have a committed relationship, but three weeks ago, the female profiler had given in and stayed over for the first time. They hadn't slept together that night; in fact, they had yet to explore each past the point of kissing passionately, Emily always breaking away before it could escalate. The first night she stayed, the two did not sleep, preferring to talk and hold each other in unashamed silence until morning. It wasn't until the second time she stayed that Hotch realised her fears had never truly left her. So, every night she had stayed since ended up with her waking him and herself up with her terrors, despite Doyle dying. Sometimes the nightmares were easy to pull herself out of, other times not. In times like tonight, he knew that she would splash her face with cold water, trying her hardest to compartmentalise every fear before returning.

Usually, he would let her do it, but something, somewhere deep down, broke in Aaron Hotchner that night and by the time Emily came back into the room, he had decided to prove to her that she didn't have to hide anymore.

"I'm going to check on Jack," she told him. "You can go back to sleep."

Hotch sighed as he watched her leave. That sinking feeling in his stomach confirmed what he had been thinking, that Jack had made an appearance in the dream this time and that Emily needed confirmation he was safe. The profiler slid out of bed, the slight chill making him thankful for the shirt and shorts he had decided to sleep in as Emily was still uncomfortable sleeping with them both bare. After glancing down the hallway to see that Emily was no longer there, he padded quietly towards the kitchen.

As he guessed, Emily was leant with her head against the cabinet, staring at the pot of coffee as it heated.

"I didn't know coffee was so interesting," he chuckled softly. The brunette jumped slightly as his words and turn to look at him with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"It's good coffee...though...it's probably a really bad idea for my no caffeine diet," she added, biting her lip as she sighed. In defeat, the profiler turned the machine off and turned back to Hotch. "You didn't have to get up."

"I know," he told her. Hotch came up to her and grasped her hips gently. "Why didn't you tell me that they were getting worse again?" He wasn't referencing to the times she'd stayed over, she knew that. He was referencing to the weeks after she had told him she was having a 'bad day', to the months that followed where she rarely spoke about anything personal to anyone, to the times she left early before she could really allow herself to fall asleep and relax in his presence. Before she answered, Emily's arms worked their way around Hotch's shoulders and hooked together behind his neck.

"I didn't want you to worry..." she mumbled into his clothed shoulder.

"And I don't want you to go through this alone," he told her, pulling back slightly to make sure she saw the truth in his eyes. "I don't want you to hide, I don't want you to think you have to compartmentalise everything around me and I don't want you to not be yourself. I want you to be comfortable in your own skin. I just want you to be you."

"Being me isn't easy," she laughed quietly, a hint of bitterness showing him that she was defending her vulnerable side with humour. Emily pressed her forehead into his shoulder, leaning into his hold.

"I want you, all of you, every compartment, every thought, just you," he breathed into her ear.

And with that, he ducked his head and pressed his lips firmly to hers. It wasn't gentle, but the firmness of it showed her that he meant everything he said. As they pulled away from each other, Emily's eyes searched his. She couldn't help but notice the way his eyes had darkened, so much so that his iris were barely distinguishable from his pupils and she was sure that her own mirrored them as her hand worked its way behind his head and pulled him down into a searing kiss.

Their tongues duelled and twisted in a dance they were both well practiced with, fighting side by side with drives of love and blind passion for dominance. Hotch's hand ran the length of Emily's side, whilst the other cupped her face and angled it upwards in order for him to deepen the kiss. He barely winced as her hands tangled in his hair and her fingers ran over his scalp. Forgetting how to breathe, Hotch's free hand tugged around Emily's waist and pulled her flush against him.

Emily was first to, regretfully, pull away, panting heavily. Her pupils were dilated and Hotch could see the lust dancing behind them. His eyes looked into hers, not unlike earlier when she had searchingly looked at his.

"Please," she breathed.

That was all the male profiler needed to hear.

Kissing her again, Hotch hoisted Emily up onto the counter-top, settling himself between her slender legs. He broke the kiss and planted hot, open-mouthed kisses down her jaw, her neck, pausing to suck and nip at the hollow between her neck and collarbone, relishing the feeling of the woman squirming under his touch.

"Aaron...," she moaned. Emily was surprised, stunned even. She had no idea that she could become _this _ready so quickly. And it was all down to the man she had fallen for from the moment she shook hands with him in his office on her first day. The man she realised that she loved with all her heart from the moment she realised he had been attacked by the Reaper. She had been so afraid, she was _still _afraid. But all that fear was washed away by what he was doing to her now. He was handling her with the same skill, the same devotion that the most able musician used with his instruments. And the sounds escaping from her throat were the music he couldn't get enough of.

Hotch crept back up to deliver a series of kisses to the brunette, which she eagerly accepted. With extreme self-control, Hotch pulled himself away and whispered gently in her ear.

"Bedroom. I want to do this properly, please."

How could she say no?

Emily nodded her agreement and a slight gasp and a quiet chuckle escaped her lips as Hotch swept her off the counter and carried her bridal style to his room. He set her down once inside and made sure the door was definitely shut and locked just in case Jack decided to pay his father a visit during the night. He would unlock it later. When he turned back, his breath hitched as he saw Emily staring at him, biting her lip and suddenly looking much more vulnerable than she did before.

Before she could compartmentalise again, Hotch covered the short distance between them in record time and cupped her face in his hands, delivering another short kiss to her lips. Making sure she was looking at him, he lowered his hands to her hips and hooked his thumbs under the hem of her tank top.

"Wait," she whispered, bringing her hands up on top of his. There was a slight pause before she choked on her next words. "I can't...I'm afraid of what you're going to see-"

Before waiting for her to finish, Hotch grabbed her hands and pulled them to the hem of his own shirt.

"Take it off," he gently commanded her. He lifted his arms as she did as he asked, visibly wincing at the gasp that passed her lips. "I know it's not pretty," he added grimly. Now _he _was the one afraid to look at _her_. He didn't want to see the disgust, the _pity _in her eyes. The profiler shivered as her slightly cool hands ran along the scars on his chest, feeling the length of each one before her touch was lost. Looking back at Emily, he saw her tugging the tank top over her head. Had this been another situation, Hotch knew that he would have instantly looked towards her bare breasts, but for once, he looked exactly at where she directed. Emily wasn't looking at him anymore; she was looking away, her lip caught between her teeth. Hotch lifted his hand and placed it on the jagged scar on her abdomen, running his thumb along it.

"I know it's not pretty," she echoed in a small voice.

Hotch shook his head before claiming her lips in another hungry kiss. "You're beautiful," he whispered, moving his head down further and planting a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the clover brand that marred her porcelain skin. But he couldn't really care less, it was part of Emily, part of the woman he loved.

His hands moved upwards from her hips, trailing over her stomach before cupping her perfectly sized breasts and running his thumbs over her hardening nipples.

Emily's hands had wound into his hair again, and as his hands connected with her chest, she leaned away from him, leaving her neck exposed. Hotch took this chance to attack her neck with added fervour. His right hand found its way to the small of her back and he surprised to other profiler by lifting her up, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist before moving her towards the bed and laying them both down.

Hotch slipped his leg between hers a jerked it up to collide with her centre through her yoga pants, causing a whimper to slip from her throat.

"Aaron..."

Her hands began blindly fumbling with the tie on his shorts, intending to shove them down along with his boxers and to prove to herself that the promise she had felt against her thigh wasn't just her imagination. Getting frustrated, Emily thrust her hand inside Hotch's confines and both she and her lover gasped at the contact.

He broke away from his assault on her neck, which was now, much to Hotch's pleasure, covered in raised marks that showed the world she was his, before reaching his own hand down and pulling hers away from him.

"Not yet," he told her, answering the questioning look in her eyes. He grabbed her other hand and raised them both above her head, locking them in place with one hand. His other trailed over her stomach and grasped the hem of her yoga pants, pulling them and her panties over her ass, allowing her to kick them the rest of the way down her legs. The male profiler lowered his head and caught one of her nipples between his lips and sucked gently, trailing his hand down lower and lower.

A groan caught in the brunette's throat as his hands first touched the sensitive nub between her legs, shooting waves of pleasure through her body. He worked her for a few moments, bringing her to the edge of pleasure before breaking away, taking slight pleasure in the needy whimper that left her mouth.

He liked this side of Emily, the one that allowed him to dominate her; much as Emily was thoroughly enjoying the alpha male side of Hotch that she had always guessed would be present in the bedroom.

Emily sat up and hooked her arms back around his neck, catching the man's earlobe between her teeth and nipping gently. "Please Aaron," she breathed down his ear, pulling away just enough from him to see the blackness of her eyes and the seductive way she was biting her lip. She was baiting him with the very thing that had triggered the vulnerable side to her. He all but lost it then, blind passion taking over every logical part of his brain.

He quickly shed his shorts and boxers, barely giving Emily time to process the length of his hardness, before covering her body with his own and thrusting deeply into her.

Moaning appreciatively as she felt herself be filled and stretched beyond anything she had experienced before, Emily's legs wrapped around Hotch's waist and her hands went to his shoulders.

Hotch felt her nails break the skin on his shoulder blades as he began to move, withdrawing until only the tip of his member was inside her before burying himself to the hilt repeatedly. He could barely hold on any longer, but he was determined to send Emily over the edge before he let himself go.

As they both neared their peaks, Emily's hips rolled up to meet his in an erratic fashion, both of their movements becoming more frantic as the waves of pleasure began to pulse through them both. Hotch reached his hand between their sweat-slicked bodies and worked at the little nub between her legs before the brunette screamed her release.

"Aaron!"

He followed her soon after with a growl that seemed more animal than human, his body collapsing on top of hers for a few moments. He kept most of his weight on his hands as to not place all of his bulk onto her, but it was enough to make sure they were still pressed together.

He leant down and captured her lips in a deep, but far gentler kiss than before. It was slower, much tenderer, one that continued his earlier declaration of wanting every aspect of the woman beneath him.

"I love you," she heard him breathe into her ear.

It took a few moments of self conflict before Hotch heard her whisper quietly back to him. "I love you too."

As if on cue, Hotch's phone began buzzing on the bedside table, ripping the air with the noise amplified by the wooden surface. He reached over and grabbed it before holding it to his ear.

"Hotchner."

Emily was impressed by the way he held his composure, his professional tone, during the conversation to the other person on the phone, but she noticed the slight husk in his voice, the slightly elevated breathing pattern, small things that she would notice from that moment on.

"Tell everyone to be in the conference room by eight-thirty. Bye."

He ended the call before looking back at Emily. "We've got a case," he told her sincerely.

"I guessed," she said with a small smile, leaning her head upwards and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"You should get some more sleep, I'll shower first," he said. Emily moaned softly as he slid out of her, disliking the sudden emptiness she felt. She wrapped a thin sheet around herself as she watched Hotch put his boxers back on and move to the door. The brunette silently watched her lover as he unlocked the door – "In case Jack gets up...he shouldn't, he's a heavy sleeper," he added at the panicked look on Emily's face – and padded towards the drawers which held his clothes. She watched him freeze and noted the stoic look on his face as he turned back round.

"We didn't use a condom."

"Pill," she replied gently, inwardly sighing in relief as the blank expression melted away.

"Do you see it...in our future?" Hotch asked her without thinking, then cursed himself at the brief look of pain that flashed across her face.

"Maybe..." she answered quietly. "It's something we can explore, at the _right time_."

He nodded his agreement and swiftly moved towards her to kiss her lips a final time before going into the bathroom. "Together," he told her.

"Together," she agreed.

Emily laid back into the pillows, listening as the shower was turned on and the running water created white noise in the background, content and happy. She knew that eventually she would have to be honest with Hotch, tell him about John and Italy, about the real lengths of intimacy with Doyle, but that was eventually. And right now, she was happy to close her eyes and allow herself to drift off into a light sleep.

One without nightmares.

One without compartments or self-loathing.

One where she was just...Emily.

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><p>"<em>I have had dreams and I have had nightmares, but I have conquered my nightmares because of my dreams."<em> - **Jonas Salk**

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><p><strong>Please review, I could really do with some feedback on this!<strong>


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